


oh, please— hold my hand.

by iwaoiks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, iwaizumi plays guitar and sings, iwaoi b&b au, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28151652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwaoiks/pseuds/iwaoiks
Summary: There's a lot of things Hitoka learns throughout the years, about Hajime and Tooru. There are a couple things Hitoka's always known.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru & Yachi Hitoka, Iwaizumi Hajime & Yachi Hitoka, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru & Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	oh, please— hold my hand.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tooruluvr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tooruluvr/gifts).



> title from Seattle by Sam Kim [[Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/2zQ1c7TT5grIoU6wKMiXdg?si=75u0YzL_TrOvCQjYdUk1MA)] [[Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_zem1MftbQ)] which is also what iwa sings in this. 
> 
> if you haven't read it yet, [here's the first iwaoi b&b au fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25425967)!
> 
> enjoy!

Hitoka likes days like these.

She wakes up, and it's snowing— blankets of white all over the treetops, the grounds, the roof of Aoba Johsai. Her sock-covered feet are warm beneath the covers. Hitoka glances out the window, takes a moment; breathes in. Breathes out. It's going to be a lovely day— one of _those_ days. She knows it. She can feel it.

Hitoka swings her legs over the side of the bed, feet slipping against the hardwood floor. It's cold. She wonders if Hajime-san and Tooru-san slept well, last night, and if Tooru-san had remembered to put on his socks before bed; familiar with them both, she knows it doesn’t matter— Hajime-san would’ve slipped them on for him, if he’d forgotten. There’s not much for her to worry about, when the two of them have each other.

Hitoka slides her way towards the bathroom, gets ready for a new day. Her hair falls in gentle curls above her shoulders. There’s a bounce in her step, and she feels light as the snowfall outside. In the living room, there’s already a fire crackling in the fireplace, and the record player spins, playing a Korean song Hitoka doesn’t recognize. Hajime-san must be up, then.

It's her and Hajime-san's turn to make breakfast today, and when she enters the kitchen, she finds him already there. Apron around his waist, Hajime-san busies himself around the space, humming softly. The rice is cooking, Hitoka sees, the water already boiling. Hajime-san has a smile on his face, and even like this, humming barely enough for Hitoka to hear, she thinks he sounds lovely. Quietly, quietly, she wonders if Hajime-san feels it too; this wondrous day.

“Good morning,” Hitoka calls out softly, not wanting to disturb him. The humming stops, and Hajime-san looks back at her, smiling still.

“’Morning, Hitoka,” he greets, voice low, and gentle as the snow. Hitoka returns the smile.

“Did you feed the dogs already?” she asks, moving to put on her own apron. She struggles to tie it up at the back, so Hajime-san reaches over to help her.

“Ah, I almost forgot. Can you do it for me?”

“Sure,” Hitoka turns away to do her task. Quietly they both work, and Hitoka likes it, like this— when she first started working at the bed and breakfast, she was terrified of these silences. Hajime-san and Tooru-san loom over her in both height and personality, and she was sure they were going to fire her if she made a single mistake— but she knows better, now. Knows Hajime-san’s kindness, and Tooru-san’s infinite love. Knows in her heart there’s no better place for her, than here.

She’d remembered, the first time she’d made a mistake and spilled water all over the kitchen floor— Hitoka had panicked, this close to crying, and was sure she was to be scolded— but then Hajime-san had pat her on the head, once, and Hitoka had looked up at him, surprised; found his eyebrow raised, his mouth quirked, like he could read exactly what Hitoka was thinking. _Don’t worry about it_ , his gentle smile had said, and his even gentler hand, _you're doing fine_.

That was her first hint, to the kind of person Hajime-san is. It’s one of her fondest memories at the B&B.

They’re making _ochazuke_ today. Their guests have a busy day ahead, wanting to try all sorts of Hokkaido specialties, so Hajime-san had decided that a light meal would be best for them. Hajime-san prepares the _dashi_ broth while Hitoka sets the table, and then Tooru-san comes stumbling in, and brightness enters the room with him. Hajime-san lights up like starlight, and Hitoka knows they’re joking most of the time, but her boss’s threats to _burn that ugly t-shirt with you in it, Tooru_ still leaves her a little concerned, at times. Tooru-san’s tinkling laugh settles her down, though. It settles them both.

The guests appear for breakfast, and leave for their adventures. The snow stops falling somewhere in between, and it’s beautiful, outside, everything untouched and made anew. Hitoka looks out the window and takes a moment; breathes in. Breathes out. She gets to cleaning the bedrooms, Tooru-san helping her, while Hajime-san is out buying groceries. Between changing bedsheets, she catches Tooru-san humming too, smiling softly. It’s a beautiful day.

“Hajime-san,” she calls, when the three of them have finished their chores and are lounging in the living room that afternoon. Tooru-san has his head in his husband’s lap, and Hajime-san has his hand in his husband’s hair. Hitoka had felt a little embarrassed, in the beginning, when they’d first been affectionate with each other in front of her— but she knows better, now. Knows how shy Hajime-san gets about these things, and how private a person Tooru-san actually is. Moments like these are a simple admission: they trust Hitoka. And more than that, she’s family.

“Mm?” Hajime-san replies, hand stroking Tooru-san’s hair. Tooru-san lets out a little sigh.

“What was the song that was playing, this morning? The Korean one?” she asks, curious. She faintly remembers the gentle piano, and the cry of the Korean singer. Hajime-san tilts his head sideways, thinking.

“Ah, you mean _Seattle_?” he says, and at the name, Tooru-san shoots up from where he lay, eyes sparkling.

“Oooh, I love that song!” he exclaims, beaming. He turns to Hajime-san, puts a gentle hand on his hand. “Especially when you sing it,” he adds, and Hajime-san blushes, looking away.

“You should sing it now!” Tooru-san suggests, before either of the other two can say anything, and then he’s running off to his and Hajime-san’s shared bedroom. Hitoka shares a confused look with Hajime-san, who only manages a short “Tooru—” before the man in question returns with a guitar in hand.

“No,” Hajime-san says, immediately. He’s blushing profusely. Tooru-san makes an offended noise.

“But _Hajime_ —”

There’s the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, and the three of them turn to look out the windows, see their guests already back from their adventures. Hajime-san turns to Tooru-san, and the former shrugs while the latter pouts, but an understanding passes between them before the guitar is being put away into a corner of the living room and the three of them go to greet their guests. Tooru-san stands muted beside her, pouting still. Hitoka feels something rise in her chest, and steadily fall. She understands his disappointment.

The rest of the day goes by. Their guests invite them to play board games together, and Hitoka spends most of it laughing, her heart light as the snow. Hajime-san sits beside her, laughing too. Tooru-san sits beside her, laughing too.

Later that night they make and eat dinner, and the guests return to their rooms, tired from the day. Hitoka is sitting on the small sofa opposite the fireplace, next to Tooru-san, their sock-covered feet tangled together. Hajime-san is adding more wood to the fire. It’s warm where Hitoka sits, and there’s a cup of hot chocolate in her hands, and it’s been a beautiful, wondrous day.

“I should put this back in our room,” Hajime-san says, picking up the forgotten guitar by the corner. He holds it reverently in his hands. Even from the beginning, Hitoka could tell, that music has always been an extension of Hajime-san’s love.

So is Tooru-san. “Play it a little,” he says, over the lip of his own mug of tea. He smiles, and a brightness fills the room. Hajime-san blushes, frowns— a moment passes where the two of them share one of their secret looks, and then Hajime-san lets out a little sigh and nods. He sits in an armchair by the fireplace, his face red and burning. He never can quite say no to Tooru-san.

Hitoka feels something rise in her chest. Hajime-san strums the guitar absent-mindedly, not playing any song at first. The notes float quietly in the firelit room. Outside, Hitoka notices that it’s started to snow, again.

They all seem to take a moment; breathing in, breathing out. Then Hajime-san opens his mouth, and honey-warmth spills through the room. Hitoka feels Tooru-san shift beside her. Hitoka feels something shift inside her.

Hajime-san has always been a little bit shy, about his own voice. Hitoka had learned this from Tooru-san, who told her that to Hajime-san, singing is like _giving away his own heart_. She catches him humming sometimes, and even then, she thinks he sounds lovely— but on rare days like these, when Tooru-san manages to convince him to sing for them, Hitoka can’t help but sigh, in wonder.

Hajime-san only ever sings when it’s just the three of them, or with Issei-san and Takahiro-san, and never with their guests, or anyone else. Only with the people he trusts. Only with his family. His voice is low, and just this side of rough. “ _Can I run and hide_?” he begins, eyes lowered to the floor. His accent coats the English words in honey-warmth. “ _I’m stuck inside my memories_.” Hitoka isn’t sure if she wants to close her eyes and listen, or keep them open so she can remember this. She knows Tooru-san is watching him. Knows he’s committing to memory, like he hasn’t already, the look on Hajime-san’s face when he loses himself in the melody: the gentle furrow of his brow, and his cheeks tinted pink. The firelight coats his skin in lovely amber. Hajime-san’s voice is as gentle as the snow.

_Oh, please_

_My heart is all for you_

_Just please_

_Take care of me_

_I’m all for you_

Hitoka thinks she could cry, like this. Hajime-san’s heart carries on his voice, gentle, gentle. She and Tooru-san hold it close, careful.

His voice trails off, _take, take, take me home to you_ , and his smile reflects the amber light. His fingers are gentle against the guitar. The room fills with his love, all his love.

“Ah,” Hajime-san stops playing, blushes harder still, “my Korean’s no good, so I’ll stop here.” His hand reaches up to the rub the nape of his neck. Hitoka takes in a deep breath, and tucks this moment somewhere in her chest, for safekeeping. Tooru-san takes a deep breath, too— tucks Hajime-san’s heart somewhere in his chest, too.

They chat a bit more, and then bid their good night’s. Tooru-san and Hajime-san slip into their bedroom, hand-in-hand, and Hitoka thinks the look in Tooru-san’s eyes is reverent. She had always known, from the very beginning, that Hajime-san has always been an extension of Tooru-san’s love. Hitoka enters her own bedroom, slips into bed, sock-covered feet finding warmth beneath the covers. It’s been a lovely day. There’s nowhere else she’d rather be, than where she is.

**Author's Note:**

> un regalo para mi amor. heheheheh i just wanted to say that in spanish
> 
> anyway! i hope you like it luna. and i hope this can bring a little peace to those who need it. life is hard, but in the gentle smile of iwaizumi hajime: you're doing fine. and if you need a lil vacation, aoba johsai b&b welcomes you always ♡
> 
> my twitter is @[iwaoiks](https://twitter.com/iwaoiks)!


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